A Man In Uniform
by ThePointGirl
Summary: Prompt: I like a man in uniform. Wincest. Sam and Dean try out their kinky side, what with all the costumes they've worn... surely some had other effects ; Find out Dean and Sam's uniform kinks!
1. Teacher, Teacher!

**Ttitle: **A Man In Unifrom

**Summary/Prompt: **Like A Man in Unifrom - because they constantly go in roles on hunts don't they?

**Disclaimer: **I don't own these two, but I really wish I did!

**Warnings: **Wincest and kinks.

**Notes: **First shot at P0rn in a long time! So bare with me :) It's for FreekyDisaster18 and our prompt challenge :)

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><p>Chapter 1: Teacher! Teacher!<p>

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><p>Dean sat behind the desk at the back of the classroom. He fidgeted a bit, and kept his eyes focused on the front of the class. He knew that any minute now, <em>he'd <em>walk in. Two girls a row in front of him turned round to look at Dean, because obviously Dean wasn't there in their last class, and he gave them a sultry smirk and wink. This caused a rupture of giggles, and a boy turned to glare at Dean. He tried to look as innocent as he could, and eventually beefball returned his gaze to the front. It wasn't as if Dean couldn't take him if things had got hairy; the guy looked more flab than muscle. Dean twiddled the pen in his hand, and looked up when the door opened. In walked the teacher of Legal Funding 101, Dean had read off the board. Some of the kids didn't look smart enough, but maybe it was just compulsory.

The teacher was tall, lean, wore glasses (but they suited him) and had floppy brown hair that drifted into his brown eyes. Couldn't be more than early twenties, and dressed in a dark blue corduroy blazer, with a white checked shirt underneath and dark jeans. Dean moaned into his fist, very happy that the noise had increased since the teacher had come in. Something that the teacher himself, didn't seem to approve of.

'Alright, listen up, I know this is a compulsory class and a lot of you would rather be doing something else' and the murmur travelled around the class. 'But that's not my problem. My name is Mr Oakes, and… yes' he stopped as a girl put her hand up.

'Sir, how old are you?' and the teacher grinned briefly.

'I'm twenty four' and 'awws' filled Dean's ears, much to his annoyance.

'Anyway, back to what I was saying. Who knows anything about Legal Funding?' and Dean watched, as people looked at each other. 'How many of you have been stopped by cops?' the teacher asked and Dean, along with a number of others raised their hands. He caught the teacher's eyes, and smirked, when those eyes stayed slightly longer on him than everyone else. 'Well you know more than me' he joked, 'Police Procedure, one way or another is a part of legal funding' teacher – Mr Oakes – sat on the desk, twiddling the chalk in his hand.

Dean put his hand up and the teacher's eyes rest on him. 'Yes'

'What's the difference between a paralegal and an associate?'

'Wow, didn't expect that. A paralegal will assist an attorney, review case documents and preps legal references. An associate searches for and summarises relevant articles in trade magazines, law reviews, financial reports and similar materials for attorneys in their prep' the teacher paused in case Dean asked something else and then said 'Good question' and he flashed Dean a white smile that had Dean licking his lips. 'Now, all of you what I want you to do is grab a textbook from the back uh, what was you're name?' he asked, looking at Dean.

'Jake' he lied – the first name that came into his head – and it just happened to be because he had recently watched Eldorado.

'Uh well Jake will hand you the textbooks and I'll tell you what we're going to get up to in a second' and he turned his back on the class. Dean picked up the books and handed them down each row, helpfully. When back at his desk he took out his phone and surreptitiously text the words: _Am I being a good boy? X_

Mr Oakes' mobile bleeped and he checked it, the class still nattering. Dean watched the teacher put his phone back in his pocket.

'Thank you, Jake. Now if you could all turn to page thirty-eight, and read up on legal funding, I want you then to answer this question' and he jumped up to the blackboard, scratching out the title. He turned around 'As long as you get it done – and don't copy of others you can't do this however you want. Listen to some music if it helps you work' and a boy removed his headphones, looking sheepish. 'I'll come round to each one of you with your GPA sheet' and Dean noted down the title on his paper, and began humming Kansas under his voice.

He eyed Mr Oakes, as he went systematically through the rows, giving encouraging smiles here and there, and being friendly with the ones who weren't achieving. Dean noted down some points on Attorney's paycheques, until he felt a shadow descend over his work. He looked up, as sweet as he could be while wearing a tight black t-shirt and skinny jeans, his leather jacket over his chair.

'How you getting on Jake?'

'I'm good sir, you okay?' Dean asked, biting the end of his pen lid.

'Fine. Seems like you're doing quite well, though you have recently had a dip in grades, why's that?'

'Distractions' he said, making his eyes go wide and guiltless, and looking at Mr Oakes with more intent than was probably necessary.

'Anything I can help with?' he asked, his gaze making Dean bite his lip to stop any sound.

'Can I talk to you after class, sir?' he asked earnestly, and Mr Oakes smiled.

'Of course' and he moved on to the boy in front of Dean.

Dean wrote a fairly decent essay in his defence, and put his feet up on the chair in front when he waited for the class to mill out. Mr Oakes was glancing at the essays and giving ticks and markings in red ink. When he was sure there was no one likely to come back in, Dean got up with his essay and sauntered over to the desk. Mr Oakes looked up, and flashed a smile.

'Thank you. Have a seat' and Dean propped himself down on chair once he got one from the other desks. Mr Oakes glanced through the essay Dean handed to him and nodded. 'Not bad, not bad at all. So what is it that you find distracting?' and a smirk nearly played onto Dean's lips. Mr Oakes got out of his seat, looking quickly at the door, walked around the side of the desk and leaned on it. His gaze looking down at Dean.

'I guess, I just need more confidence y'know?' Dean saw a flicker in Mr Oakes' eyes, a gaze that begged him to be a good boy.

'I don't for one minute think you don't have any confidence'

'Really?'

'Yes, a cute boy like you…' Dean swallowed hard, and allowed the blush that crept onto his features. 'What do I have to do to make you see, that you're one _pleasure_ to teach?' the voice was so smooth, Dean clenched his jaw. Mr Oakes leaned off the desk and cupped Dean's chin, in a soft fashion. Mr Oakes ducked, and kissed Dean. It was mere moments before Dean kissed back, and moaned, not letting himself touch. They broke apart and Dean couldn't look in the eyes of his teacher.

'Hey, do you trust me?' Mr Oakes asked, and Dean looked up. Green eyes, met brown ones in a liquid bond. All Dean could do was nod. He was then hauled up by the forearm and guided back around to the teacher's side of the desk. His hands clutched at the desk behind him. Dean arched into the touch, and whimpered when the teacher's lips grazed the skin just below his ear.

'Sir…' and the sound of his voice made Dean harder. Mr Oakes' hands slid under his t-shirt and they were softer than they looked, and he was turned around, with the teacher's hands on his hips. Dean pushed back, using the desk as leverage; he could feel that Mr Oakes' was hard just for him. His hips undulated, and chuckled at the low moan he received.

'I think this is what the rules call 'special treatment'' Dean huffed in a breathless laugh. Mr Oakes chuckled, and deep sound that went straight to Dean's crotch.

'Some students need that extra bit of discipline and care' and Dean felt teeth sink onto his skin, and the blood rushed. That was not going away in a few days, and the thought made Dean groan.

'Undo your jeans for me' that was a command, but it was phrased soft against his skin. Dean undid the leather belt, and slipped his jeans down, just over his ass. 'You're good at following orders, aren't you?'

'Yes, sir' Dean managed to vocalize. He heard the split of a condom wrapper and then the dribble of lube. _God. _He wasn't going to survive this; his body was already in flames.

'You okay?' there was pause in his voice, like he would stop if Dean really did feel uncomfortable.

'Yes sir. Please keep going'

The preparation made him squirm back to get more friction, and when his prostate was brushed he bucked up, letting his head fall against the shoulder of his teacher. His eyes fluttered closed and he breathed, the noises seemed to echo violently around the room. _Fuck. _

Seemed like Mr Oakes was bigger everywhere. When he slid into Dean, the pace that was set made him close to sobbing. Dean was so in need of release, it was hurting him. So he ground his hips back roughly with a growl. Earning him a grunt, and the feel of Mr Oakes' brown hair brushing the back of his neck.

'Tut tut, I thought you were a good boy?'

'Not in all circumstances, sir. I try to be…'

'Try harder for me, huh. I love a student who tries to impress their teacher' and after that the rhythm increased, and every thrust had Dean moaning, and litanies were pouring out of his mouth. With one last thrust Dean reached his climax and afterglow washed over him with a sticky stripe across his hand and Mr Oakes' groaned into his neck, laughing softly.

They stayed like that for a moment, listening for any sounds of people in the corridor.

'Essay was quite good, by the way' teacher said as he slipped out of Dean and tried to reorganize himself.

'Oh shut up Sam' Dean retorted without heat.

'Hey that took work. You and your kinks' Sam muttered. Dean turned around, and he was handed a tissue. He cleared up, happy that he didn't get anything on his t-shirt. He realised he only narrowly missed lacing a girl's essay with come. Thought made him smirk. She had even put hearts on the sheet.

'What grade did I get, Mr Winchester?' Dean asked.

'Grade A I think. Good work'

Dean laughed, and Sam began laughing with him.

'Honestly, Dean I had to wait around for hours in that staff room' Sam said, taking off the glasses and shaking his hair.

'You tellin' me you didn't enjoy it?' Dean asked, and Sam smirked.

'To be the one in control of Dean Winchester, hum?' Sam asked sarcastically. Dean rolled his eyes.

'C'mon, let's get out of here. Unless you do actually wanna teach Algebra 2?' Dean muttered, twisting his neck to read the timetable.

They snuck out of the classroom and down the corridor. Once out of the way of security and in the comfortable confines of the Impala, Dean turned to Sam.

'Mr Oakes?' he asked, with a raised eyebrow. 'You sound like a character on Fraser or something'

'A girl I knew at Stanford, called Helena Oakes'

'Oh okay Sam. It's your turn, next' and Dean drove out of the car park.

'What?' Sam asked looking confused.

'Show me how kinky you are Sammy boy'


	2. Obey the Law!

**Notes: **Longer than chapter 1, I got a bit carried away :) Have fun and review if you like.

**Disclaimer: **Don't own but would like to.

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><p>Chapter 2: Obey the Law!<p>

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><p>Sam drove down the road and tapped the wheel of the Impala. He really hoped Dean wouldn't get caught, as that was the last thing he wanted, it was too much hassle. A few cars passed every so often, and Sam swerved between lanes, letting his wilder side out, and getting a loud and intrusive honk from a massive truck that grumbled past.<p>

Okay, his license wasn't technically valid, and he had had it removed once, but that was Dean's fault. He had been driving Dad's truck and, and the fake license had been revoked when Dean _helpfully _decided to jack him off in the middle of a speedway. Okay, Sam had kept fidgeting and he had been hard all damn day, but then, right at that moment? His brother had the best timing in the world. Sam shook his head in remembering, and then scowled at the awkward conversation with Dad about why Sam had ripped the tyres on a three point turn. Because he had a valid excuse didn't he. Sam remembered watching Dean's face as the boy leant on the doorframe and smirked at him behind Dad's back. Yeah, never get into a car with Dean Winchester if you can possibly help it. Maybe he didn't entirely mean that…

The night had begun to curl over the sky, near blackening it. Sam blinked and slowed his driving. The radio was picking up random stations, and even some country, at which Sam glared and switched the stupid thing off. He stilled the wheel and dug for the tapes under the seat. Magically, he was able to keep control of the car, find a tape, and put it in the slot. He hated driving on his by himself; he didn't know how Dean did it. Actually he did know, when Sam left Dean hated being on his own especially in the car. He sped up again, and there was no one else on the road as far as he could see. The car – not that he'd ever voice this to Dean – lapped up speed like a cat and milk. She had a need for speed, much like her owner.

He wasn't aware of the flashing lights, that were blue, and the wail of a siren. _Damn. _He looked in the rear view mirror and saw a police car, the figure inside signalled for him to pull over.

Sam's pulse picked up as he crawled the Impala to a stop in the nearby pit stop lanes. The police car rammed up behind the Impala. Sam turned the ignition off after a moment of deciding whether or not to speed off into the night. Then again, the officer has probably already taken the number plate, and he respects authority. Authority figures (apart from his own father) deserve to be obeyed, he's not like Dean who doesn't seem to care about that sort of thing. Sam wondered if his brother had a complex that the only thing that should be obeyed is Dean Winchester himself. Hum. Sam shut his eyes, and sunk into the upholstery. It wasn't long before there was a tapping on the window and Sam opened his eyes.

The police officer wore aviator sunshades that covered a good section of his face, no hat, and from the badge and uniform, he was state police. Sam wound down the window, and smiled as politely as he could.

'Do you know why I stopped you?' and Sam was certain it was because he wanted to congratulate Sam on his choice of car.

'No' he answered; honestly he hadn't actually been watching the speed dial.

'Do you know how fast you were going?' the officer asked, one hand on the Impala's body, the other at the badge on his belt. The officer was tightly built, and the uniform complimented that. Sam frowned, then realising that it was a standard police way, of telling you you're going to be here for a while.

'No, officer I didn't' and the officer smirked.

'She's nice' he commented tapping the Impala lightly.

'Uhm, yeah I guess. She's not mine…' and he mentally cursed himself. Why? Sam, use the head of yours!

'Oh really? What are you doing driving over the limit in a car that's not yours?'

'Well it's actually my brother's car. He let me borrow it' Sam kept his hands on the steering wheel, his palms sweating a bit. You would have thought he was used to cons like this by now. Lying to people from town to town to get information? Nope. Dean was the smooth one with cops (when he got caught he'd sweet talk any officer of the law, or at least try to), Sam couldn't do it.

'Do you have a good reason that would make you need to hurry?' and Sam gulped. The officer scratched his lip, and rocked on the heels of his boots.

He knew the law, and he knew that when asked that kind of question, you say: 'No'. Simple, sweet and doesn't require much brain power. But right now, Sam's ride to Stanford was not coming into play, like at all.

'Yes' and Sam was sure he wasn't actually speeding, not in need of a ticket anyhow. Yeah, he had a reckless moment. _You're a Winchester, c'mon Sam!_

'Want to tell me why?' and Sam could hear the sarcasm and disbelief in his voice. That growl of a voice. Sam's eyes drifted to the hand on the window. No wedding ring, he surmised, and then remembered he actually had a question to answer.

'A family emergency'

'That's not true is it kid? You think I'm stupid' and Sam backpedalled fast.

'No, no, no! I don't I uhm-' Christ he hadn't been this nervous since he was thirteen. The heavy darkness had settled over the planes, and the aviator shades on the police officer and the sunset's dribbling rays were Sam's only source of light. He could see his refelection if he looked at the lenses too long. That was a bad idea. A very bad idea. The police officer let out a sigh, and cocked his head to the side.

'Anytime you want'

'It's probably the best if I told you the truth, right?' Sam felt anxiety rise up to lace into his bloodstream.

'That would make my job a lot easier' he sounded bored.

'I didn't know how fast I was going, I just wanted a rush. I'm an adrenaline junkie' Sam confessed, looking out of the screen, and looking at the empty road before him.

'Okay… well you were doing 80' the officer said, getting the ticket pad from his belt, and biting the lid off the pen he had in his chest pocket. He kept the lid in his mouth, and wrote something down. 'And the limit is 65 on this stretch' Sam wanted to argue he really did. But something told him to keep quiet.

The guy looked like he could handle himself very well, and the last thing he wanted was to get in a fight with this guy, not that he wouldn't mind anything else from him. 'Can I see your driver's license please?' and he felt the officer's eyes on him at all time. He reached into the glove compartment and felt an impending sense of dread. The flicked the bangs out of his eyes as he managed to get the right, fake one. Cause that made a load of sense. His name was Ryan Cohen, apparently. He handed the paper and ID over, and the guy inspected the photo. He muttered something but Sam couldn't tell what it was.

'I never saw a sign' he said calmly, as if that helped matters.

'You're not from around here then' the officer commented, and Sam's silence was not an admission of guilt.

'No'

'Could you please step out of the car sir' the officer asked, but it was an order really. The man moved so Sam could get out, and he had put all the papers on the top of the car, a hand resting on them. 'Have you been drinking?' He had a beer a couple of hours ago.

'No' yeah he lied, and he didn't like it. The officer appeared to believe him.

'It's my duty to search the vehicle, do you have anything in here that you want to confess to before I look?' Sam bit his cheek, and shook his head. In the USA, cars are subject to a search with reasonable cause after a traffic stop, Sam's notes flooded back to him.

'No officer'

'If you could stay where you are then I'll be done in a couple of minutes. Then we can discuss your ticket, and you'll be on your way' the officer turned around at the last word, his hand touched the black baton on his belt and Sam averted his eyes. He opened the backseat door. He supposed that junkies story smack under the seats? Not that he would know.

Sam stood where he was told to, and did not look at the officer's ass when he rummaged in the back seat. The search took a few minutes, with the officer checking that Sam was still where he was. He offered the man a small smile, receiving the flash of a leer. That look went straight to his groin, and his already heated palms did not cool down after that. Great. Not only will he get a ticket, but a beating from a most likely straight cop. The trunk check was simple, he didn't see the hidden layer.

The door smacked shut and the officer stood up and licked his lips – _probably unconsciously don't read anything into it Sam! _A voice that sounded like his friend Helen at Stanford said.

'Right, Mr Cohen' the officer said briskly, and Sam stood to more to more attention.

'I can't see anything suspicious in the vehicle, so that just leaves you and your ticket' and Sam blinked stupidly. 'Turn around put your hands on the bonnet please' the officer said, hands on his belt. Sam did as he was told, and the cool exterior of the Impala offended his jeans. He heard a brief rustling, and then he being padded down. Body search. It was obvious that Sam hadn't anything on his person, but the hands kept moving on his hips and arms. He was not about to inform the officer of this.

Sam shifted, and his now clear erection pressed hard against the denim. Sam coughed. The hands had come to rest on his hips, and the press of the officer's body was a line of heat. A hand appeared and Sam saw – through the lust that was starting to sizzle in his body - the white paper ticket.

'I can get rid of this very easily' the heavy accent breathed. Sam nodded once. 'What do you say? Think you're _under _the law?' in any other situation Sam would have laughed at the choice of words, but he swallowed the lump in his throat.

'Yes officer'

'You weren't speeding, were you? I just pulled just over to complement you on your car' and Sam shook his head, and then nodded. 'Good. How big's that backseat?' the man asked, like a man wanting to buy the car at a show.

'Big' and Sam's face flushed, he closed his eyes to the night. The body behind him disappeared, and Sam froze and then swiveled, suddenly vulnerable. The officer had moved along the car to the backseat door.

'Lead the way' and Sam forced himself to make his body act faster than his head was. Sam opened the door and he was nudged to get in. The next flow of events ended in Sam being pinned to the leather seating.

The door swung shut, and Sam knew this could go either way in the space of four seconds. The officer straddled Sam's lap, smirking when Sam whimpered. Sam breathed, noting that the change in temperature had made his dick even more interested.

The officer leant down and licked into Sam's mouth, and Sam hated himself because he nearly went completely pliant. The kiss became harsh and dominating and Sam took every bit of it. Teeth bit on his lower lip and Sam grunted, shallowly pushing up his hips. A low chuckle and hands undoing his checked shirt was all the reply he got. Sam made no attempt to help, and let his head drop back and collide heavily with the door handle when the officer kissed down his chest and bit on his left nipple. The _ouch_ turned to _fuck._ The sensation had Sam moaning relentlessly. The officer tongued down Sam's stomach, his hands – which were his wrists away from his body – now slid down the sides of Sam's body, dragging his nails. The officer got to Sam's jeans, and undid them swiftly, gesturing for him to lift his hips. Sam did as he was told, and the jeans and boxers were pulled and pushed to give enough room. Sam had had enough, and un tucked the officer's shirt. He wasn't stopped, and when the shirt was undone, Sam groaned at the sight of the man's perfectly chiseled chest.

The officer reached for his sunshades, and for all Sam had been wary that he couldn't see the man's eyes, he stopped the man's hands.

'Leave them on' and the man paused before complying. Sam saw himself reflected once again, this time all on show. The officer shuffled on Sam's body, and took Sam's dick right to the base.

'Fu-uck' broke from his mouth. The officer moaned around his dick, arching, and doing an excellent job of bringing Sam so close to the edge, before he released the member from his mouth and Sam whined. The officer sat up between Sam's legs, and un hooked the baton from his belt. He held out two fingers from his other hand, and Sam sucked them into his mouth while watching the officer. The officer's lips parted and a moaned escaped, and he licked his lips.

'You wouldn't survive behind bars with that mouth' the officer said then, seeing his slip, he coughed and pulled his fingers from Sam's lips. They were slick. Sam knew what was coming. The officer prepped him, and Sam writhed as wet fingers, slid against his prostate.

The baton was then traced along his jaw, and lifted his chin, then worked his chest. Sam's breathing was heavy and the flame and in his gut flared, when the tip of the baton was pressed against his entrance.

Sam groaned at the intrusion and it wasn't long before Sam was fucking himself on the baton, moaning with each thrust. The officer watched him, and jacked him off slowly. The pace was horribly slow, Sam didn't know how much time had passed because his head was filled with the man currently using a weapon of the law to make Sam whine like a bitch.

'What I would do with you if I had you back in the cells' the officer said and he twisted the baton, drawing out. He leaned in and Sam's hands went to the man's shoulders like an instinct. 'Keep your hands there, understand me?' and Sam nodded, twisted his hips when the officer gave the baton a short thrust, and Sam cried out in impatience and need. He dug his nails into the man's as the thrusts got deeper. Then the baton was removed in one quick movement and Sam felt as if he was going crazy. The baton slipped to the floor of the Impala and rolled under the seat. 'I'm going to make you scream' it was a whispered promised.

The officer entered him with unsurprising ease and thrust hard and deep. All Sam could do was to grip tight the beige uniform and breathe. 'You don't come until I say so' and Sam was certain he would have promised anything right then. The order was clear, but the moan at end of it made Sam's pulse jump.

The tight heat and mind blowing burn of each thrust built, until Sam was sure he couldn't hold it any more. The officer lowered himself, grinding his hips in a selfish motion and grazed his teeth on Sam's neck. 'Come for your superior' and he bit Sam's neck in sync with a deep slam of his hips.

Sam let out a loud moan through clenched teeth as his climax hit him. A moment after the officer came with his teeth still marking Sam's neck, and a groan that would make him weak if Sam wasn't already lying down. Their heavy breathing calmed, and the officer sat up on his haunches, pulling out of Sam.

'Jesus Dean' Sam breathed, not really wanting to move.

'That kinda what you wanted?' Dean asked moving Sam's legs and plunking himself on the leather next to Sam, and doing up his jeans. Sam began to sort himself out. The question, Sam didn't think he really needed to answer.

'You're kidding…' and looking sideways at Dean he saw the wrong emotion cross his brother's features. Sam raised an eyebrow, and Dean's face split into a smile. Dean took off the sunshades and looked at them.

'Somethin' else I should know?' he asked, waving the shades about.

'No officer'

'Ah good'

'Dean'

'Yeah'

'Where'd you get the car?' he asked.

'Same place I got the uniform, and equipment. Storage' Dean shrugged and then got up to see if the police car was still there.

'Thanks'

'Welcome' and Dean, once presentable, hopped out of the car and Sam was left grinning to himself. He pulled up his jeans, but couldn't be bothered to do his shirt. He was too spent. Dean got in the driver's seat and switched the ignition on.

'Radioed about a lone police car' he smirked to Sam in the rearview mirror.


End file.
